Rearranging Deck ChairsThe sun shines bright through the trees, and filters into a small study. Andi Gorman rises from his seat, approaches the window, and snaps the blinds shut before returning to his desk. The desk itself was littered with papers, screwed up photos, shorthand notes and charts. The historian sighs exasperatedly, and scribbles a note on a piece of paper titled WWI - A Personal Look, the title of his forthcoming book, before turning to read a torn piece of a letter sent by a soldier in the trenches.
And now I come to the great news. I reported at battalion headquarters, and the colonel looked in a little book and said, You report to C Company - Captain Stanhope. Cant you imagine what I felt? I was taken along some trenches and shown to a dugout. There was an awfully nice officer there, quite old, with grey hair and then later Dennis came in. He looked tired, but
RougeCome! Come! Come! Bear witness to my battle. Come!Lest your blood be purged by my hand.As wracked undertakings slander your soulsThrough pregnant snide and subtle breath.Through my ecstasy, thou shalt be judged!Bow before me, good sir, fall to your baseMy fell sword shall bestow a diadem rougeFleeting treasure for your last breathCast down your eyes...
'I Love You THIS Much'Kissing my face with a fist -- RedEmbraceDepartRaging wars on dubious excusesError in judgementComets rainingPlanets movingFuck off, I hate you!Never to leave againNext week.
Of Life, Love and OrgansShackles wrap around my arms,Scorching my wrists with blood.There’s much to stop me from coming to harm,But these are the shackles of love.My chest hurts for the care,My heart beats to the rhythm of yours.I need it back, I don’t think I can bear,To see my heart scattered across the floor.But chained I am, held to the wall,Helpless to see it stray.You stole it with no effort at all,No plans to return it someday.You are the master, I am a toy,Retaking control is not on the cards.For I fell for you when I was merely a boy,But a man would not find this so hard.
The ThiefYou stole my treasure;My gold;Took it from behind my breast pocket.Now you have lost it;Careless in your possession;Maybe I will find it again...
God Is AliveGod is alive, and he is out to lunch,He has been for a spanHe takes the occasional urgent callBut your prayers don't get to the manThe two that came first, they took from God's stashThis left him rather madHe booted them right out of his flatHe had the munchies real badGod had gone down to Celestial Fried ChickenVariety bucket, Divine.He will try to be back soon, after his snackBut the guy will take his timeSo, as I have said he's out to lunchWe expect he shall returnIn 35 - 40 yearsHe wont let your question burnYou are 3rd in the queue, you lucky chapI'll give you something to doListen to Stevie Wonder for nowAnd god'll get back to you.